


Fate/Kleos Beta

by Jabyrwock, Rudyards



Series: Fate/Kleos [2]
Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Original Characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jabyrwock/pseuds/Jabyrwock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rudyards/pseuds/Rudyards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven Masters and Seven Servants fight in an epic struggle for Flamel's Grail, a powerful artifact that can grant immortality. Each of them has their own reasons to desire the artifact, and each of them has potent skills and an exceedingly powerful ally that makes them a dangerous foe. And whether people seek victory through backstabbing, or through outright murder, there can only be one winner in this instance of the Grail War. Based off of the Fate/Nasusverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thoughts on Beginnings

Where should we start our story, the story of the war over Flamel's Grail? Of course, the classic choice would be to start somewhere in the middle of the action, because although it would leave many of you confused, it more accurately replicates the emotions and views of the seven Masters and Servants involved. Or should we start at the beginning, and make clear the actors and elements once and for all? I'm sure many of you would appreciate being able to accurately take notes, track inside jokes as they start up, chart out rivalries before they fully form, rather than just being expected to know and understand all of this naturally and intuitively from the get go. 

Or perhaps we could go the unorthodox route, and begin our story at the end of all this? The final battle before the winner of the whole bloody business is declared, the last fight that will determine who achieves the Grail and the unique capabilities that it provides. Now, while you might not understand the players involved, might not be able to comprehend their burning hatred for each other, the alliances that are rapidly falling apart, the struggles each and every one of them has endured, you'll be able to view their journey in the most pure form. You'll be able to see the ends, and understand how they justify the means. You'll be able to see why they forsook all of their morals, all of the things that bound them, marked them as human, in order to achieve this fabled artifact, this one mythical object that is worth giving up everything for.

You'll see why so many were willing to die for a single stone.  
Why they were willing to watch the city burn, for a single stone.  
For another shot at life.  
For a chance to save the world.

There are certainly benefits for starting at the end of the story, but there are also flaws. These names won't mean anything to you, and the titles will be more important than the people who bear them. You'll of course see the end that they justified the means with, but you won't witness the means, the atrocities that were far too necessary, that will stay with the survivors for the rest of their lives. And if we start in the middle, you'll see the means, but you won't understand why the Grail seekers were willing to compromise everything in order to achieve them. You won't know their stories, their lives, their traumas, well enough to understand simply why they're willing to hurt, lie, break every law and rule that humans are meant to follow, in order to achieve the ultimate goal of Flamel's Grail. So, I suppose ultimately, we have to start at the beginning, even if that's not the perfect option, it's by far the best one. It's the one that has the highest chance of making you actually understand why any of these seven humans, because ultimately that's what they are, wanted immortality. For some of them, it was the reason anyone wants immortality: they're scared of what comes after life, the infinite darkness that follows an ultimately brief period of consciousness. For others, their goals in life are ones that extend beyond a natural lifespan, and thus Flamel's Grail is necessary for them to carry out their dreams.

But although most of you have likely heard of the Fuyuki Grail, which is said to contain the Blood of Christ, and can provide wishes for the one who wins it, and sacrifices Seven Servants to it, allowing their blood and souls to fuel it's power. Of course, the wishes ultimately come at a price, as they are frequently limited by the person making the wish. You need a specific wish, specific goals, specific methods, in order to actually get exactly what you want. In many cases, this proves to be sub ideal. However, the Fuyuki Grail isn't the only object of such power in the world, it's merely one of the most well known ones, given that it has a long history of mythology surrounding it. Everyone knows of the Grail that King Arthur sought, the Grail that contained the blood of Christ. Fewer know about Flamel's Grail, largely because it's a misnomer: Flamel's Grail isn't a cup, but rather a stone, that looks almost like quicksilver taken solid form. While it's versatility comes nowhere near the Fuyuki Grail, it's far more user friendly. Flamel's Grail grants the user one wish by default: massively increased longevity, and a regeneration that comes along with it. The winner could still die, of course, but it'd be difficult to do so, and wouldn't occur from natural causes. Furthermore, it grants the user a single year with vastly increased magical capacities, one year to change the world, reshape it as they see fit. 

One year is more than enough for most of these contestants.


	2. Dramatis Personae

Imagine, for a second, that you were an ordinary person, living an ordinary life, dealing with ordinary problems, and (usually) finding ordinary solutions. Most likely, most of you don't need to imagine that scenario, as you are living it. In that case, you are one step closer to understanding Oliver Jacobson, the first of our dramatis personae. Oliver was born in America, in a small town in northern California, and grew up in an unremarkable family. They graduated high school in the top 5 percent of their class, went to UCLA on a scholarship and earned a degree in classics, and then had to return home afterwards due to the exorberant cost of living in LA, and the fact that finding a job instantly out of college is a task that rivaled acquiring Flamel's Grail in difficulty. Again, ordinary problems, an ordinary life. Perhaps they liked it that way. Perhaps they despised it.

Of course, their story wouldn't be featured in this collection if they had been allowed to keep that ordinary life. Remember Oliver Jacobson, for it is likely that when we cross them again, you won't recognize them as the same person they was originally.

\---

Oliver is somewhat of an anomaly in his normalcy, the majority of the participants were born into magic. Well, some of them weren't born into it, but grew up alongside it. Hal Collingwood, for instance, spent his childhood around Mages. Technically, it was spent cleaning up after them, or playing with their children, or other such chores, but nonetheless Hal grew up in an environment where Magic was never said to be imaginary. Hal's parents were servants of the Lachestes family, as were his father's parents before them, and his grandfather's parents, reaching all six generations up through the Lachestes' lineage. Yes, perhaps Hal's family wasn't a noble one, but it was one that had potential running through it, and Hal was the culmination of that potential. Hal had been born a Collingwood, but now was a Lachestes and the sole heir of the family. Regardless of how he'd earned that position, which there were a handful of rumors about, but nothing that could be traced back to him, Hal was one of the primary candidates who came from families that had the resources to actually deploy a significant fighting force in order to acquire Flamel's Grail, and he was a figure to watch out for in the coming war.

But despite his current noble position, there was always an understanding that Hal was a replacement, a substitute since there was no one else. And the fury that burned in him because of that, the deep seated desire to prove people wrong, would drive him head first into the Grail War, leaving destruction in his wake.

\--

Even before people were fully aware of the final list of participants in the upcoming Grail War, Martin Ambrosius was expected to come out victorious. He was on the opposite side of the spectrum compared to Oliver: whereas Oliver had never known magic in his life, Martin had never known a life outside of magic. He was born into one of the oldest aristocratic mage families in England, and grew up in luxury, studying diligently from a young age to unlock all the secrets that his family crest had to offer him. To him, magic is the pinnacle of culture, and the center of everything good in the world, and the Grail War itself was the noblest game that one could play.

Martin was expected to win, expected to destroy his opponents, and expected to acquire the stone in order to extend his lifetime and strengthen the power of his family. Even before the scouts had confirmed some of the other threats in the competition, Martin himself never doubted his capabilities to defeat anyone who might cross him. And when it came time to summon a servant, Martin was given the finest of catalysts, and summoned one of the few Servants in existence that could hope to represent him faithfully.

\--

Unfortunately, we lack the time to introduce all seven masters right now, and besides, telling you absolutely everything would ruin the dramatic tension. You deserve information, but too much information and things get lost in the flood. You lose track of details, individuals, and switch to extracting big picture understandings from something that wasn't intended to be like that. So with that, it makes more sense to examine these three, and how they entered the Grail War, how they acquired Servants, and take a closer look at their motivations. Let's see why they were willing to kill for a longer life.

And let's start with Oliver

\--

The day that would change everything for Oliver was an otherwise normal Summer’s day, July 14th, 2015, and it had begun like any other. They rolled out of bed at the crack of dawn, pulled on some clothes, and gone for a jog around the town. It was a habit that they’d acquired at college, when for some reason the entire world felt bleak and pointless in a way that was impossible to articulate. Jogging helped them clear their head, and so they had run around campus daily, picturing their troubles as monsters that were physical creatures rather than mundane gripes, such as failed tests, failed creative works, failed relationships. And in doing so, their problems were easier to deal with, because although they’d rip Oliver to bits if they caught up to them, Oliver just didn’t let the troubles catch them. Of course, the downside to this solution is it meant that they had to run consistently, and keep running, because stopping meant that those problems would catch up, and once again their world would become bleak, pointless, and they’d find themselves hiding in their room once more, unable to do anything.

More than anything else in the world, Oliver never wanted to feel depressed in that way again.

Once they finished their morning jog, and swung back home, Oliver stopped at the mailbox in front of the small, yellow house that they’d grown up in, and opened the latch. Typically, their family in general didn’t receive much mail, other than junk. Thankfully, Oliver had grown up in a household where both of their parents were tech savvy enough to adopt email, texting, and other advancements as those occurred, and although Oliver had heard plenty of horror stories from friends regarding having to help out their older family members with simple communication, they couldn’t really sympathize.

Grabbing out the stack of letters from the mailbox, Oliver flipped through them, glancing at each before moving on. Junk, Junk, Bill, Junk, Junk. They paused, and the first strange occurrence of the day struck, with a black envelope with red lettering being amongst the stack of mail. The envelope didn’t appear to be junk, although there certainly were several red flags. It was addressed directly to Oliver, and used their full name. The thing about it was that it was Oliver’s new name, as they had changed it back in college. Most junk mail still used their old name, and so, despite their initial hesitation, Oliver kept the message, chucking the junk in the trash, the bills on their father’s desk, and the strange black envelope on their bedside table. 

Right now, they didn’t have time to read the message. As intriguing as it was, they had more morning rituals to complete before the day had truly begun. Even once those had been done, they had tasks that took precedent over this distraction. Oliver had realized that in addition to jogging, one of the things that gave them the best chance of coping with their mental health was patterns, objectives that they could accomplish every day in order to give themself a feeling of achievement in some sense. Of course, the dangerous part was that any day they failed those patterns caused them a fair bit of emotional distress, and caused a vicious cycle where they’d miss one thing, feel like shit enough to miss another thing, and the feelings would intensify, until they were rendered essentially useless. So it wasn’t a perfect system, but when it worked, it helped enough to be worth the risk.

And so, after their morning run, Oliver took a shower, dealt with all of the other minor hygienic aspects of their body, left their room, and cooked themself breakfast. Their parents wren’t at home right now, as they’d gone to New York to visit old friends, and while the feeling of being alone put Oliver on edge, the quiet of the house was something they appreciated. While consuming breakfast, they read the news on their laptop, scanning the headlines to update themself on what had happened when they were asleep. Nothing out of the ordinary popped out, which was to be expected.

Today was shaping up to be an ordinary day.


	3. The Letter

It was only around 3 in the afternoon, once Oliver had finished some work, and earned a break, that they finally examined the envelope again. The envelope was black, with red text, and addressed to them by name. The stamp was a simple one that looked like the American flag, and the only other text that was on the envelope was in bold print in the middle of the envelope:

“Project Ares"

Almost instantly, Oliver’s mind flooded with possibilities. They'd never heard of this project, but the name was rather foreboding. It sounded like a military project, but there wasn’t really a reason why the military would send mail, especially such a formal message, to a classics major from Northern California. Of course, Oliver had signed up for the draft, since they were more or less required to, but that was the most they'd had contact with the military. So, military didn’t make sense. Perhaps it was some classics related thing then? Naming it after the God of War seemed suspect, but since it was the Greek God of War, maybe that was the connection? It was a massive stretch, but it’d explain why Oliver would be the one to receive the letter, their name was still probably listed on a few sites for his work with UCLA’s classics department.

Putting all those possibilities aside, Oliver opened the envelope, carefully ripping along the top of the envelope so as not to damage it. It was rather beautiful, and somewhat reminded them of Greek vases, especially with the red on black style. Most likely a direct reference, upon further consideration. Having removed the letter, Oliver finally opened it, and read it, their eyes flicking across the page.

“To Oliver Jacobson,  
Dear Sir”

Oliver winced slightly, and although the word shouldn’t have bothered them, it somewhat did. Bad enough that they got junk mail with their old name, the one message that seemed to get that right called them a sir. Regardless, they continued to read.

“Dear Sir, you’ve been selected for a chance to participate in Project Ares, a wonderful and rare opportunity. Your experience in classics, and your drive have made you an obvious candidate, as well as your papers on the Iliad, and the nature of heroes. Although you won’t be participating in the main action, your knowledge will make you a valuable consultant, and we’d love to bring you in for an interview. We can cover travel expenses for the trip to San Diego, where our nearest branch is to your home. Please email us at the listed address if you’re interested when you get the chance, and we can arrange travel plans post haste.

Sincerely Yours,  
Jessica Donovan"

They stared down at the letter, and for a few long moments considered it. Then, they gently placed it on their bedside table, turned around, and sat down in their chair, facing their body to their computer, fingers quickly finding the keys and dancing along them. They weren’t going to email and pursue the job offer, not quite yet at least. No, first they had to do some preliminary research, so they fully knew what they were getting into. Then, and only then, would they send off an email and take the spot. Oliver wanted the job, but not so much that they were willing to get involved in shady stuff for it.


	4. Back From Break

As the sun rose and cast its rays across the lake, the beams of light bounced off of the water, and entered the windows of the cottage located next to it. And as the light slowly filled the bedroom, Hal Collingwood’s eyes flickered open. Today was…he couldn't remember the precise date. The important thing was that it was only 55 days until the Grail War was meant to begin. Closing his eyes once again, Hal muttered a few arcane words, and initiated one of his more useful spells, although it wasn't a particularly powerful one. Instantly his mind began to function as if he'd been awake for a few hours, the fog of sleep quickly leaving his mind. As his eyes opened, in one corner of his vision was the date, July 14th, 2015, and in the opposite corner was the current time. Bottom of his vision, he had a small todo list displayed. Although this spell wouldn’t last for too long, it would be sufficient to get his bearings.

This was the last morning he got to spend in this vacation cottage, which was a little unfortunate. He had a meeting in Liverpool at 3, meaning that he'd probably have to leave around noon, given that it was a couple of hours of driving to get from his cottage by Bassenthwaite Lake to there. It was a little sad to live the quiet isolation of the lake, but to be quite honest, on some level he was desperate to return to the city. After all, Hal was the head of the family, and he needed to act like it. Expecting them to function without him would show that he wasn't passionate enough.

And, more terrifyingly, it’d show that he was replaceable.

As Hal exited his bedroom, clothes now donned, he used the last few moments of his HUD spell to check up on what cantrips he still had set up, unused. And luckily, he had ones that would make the process of packing up and leaving easier. With a bit of usage of mana, Hal triggered the cantrip that he'd mentally labeled as “Breakfast”, which turned on the stove, retrieved a few eggs telekinetically, put bread in the toaster, as well as setting the table. He hadn't quite figured out how to finagle it to cook scrambled eggs correctly, it always overdid them, so he had commented that part of the spell out, and just did that part of the legwork himself. As he rapidly beat the eggs, he set off the next cantrip, labeled “Maid”, and allowed the mana committed to that spell to wash over the house, quickly sweeping up any dust, cleaning off any dirty surfaces, straightening anything out of place, rendering the place as clean as it had been when he’d first arrived. And the penultimate cantrip that he had left to trigger was called “Porter I”, which packed his bags up for him, then brought them downstairs, leaving them next to the door out.

Hal poured the eggs out onto the plate, and snagged the toast which had just popped out. Perfect timing, he was ahead of schedule. He didn't waste too much time eating, and when he finished, he moved the plate to the sink, cleaning it off manually before putting it away to dry. Technically, he should've waited to use “Maid” until after he'd finished eating, but he wanted to get gone as soon as possible, so that he could meet with a few of his advisors before the meeting. His hastiness had caused him to put in a bit more personal effort, but that wasn't a huge concern. Now finished, he exited the building, and walked towards the parked car on the gravel driveway. As he sat down in the driver seat, he activated the last cantrip, “Porter II”, which caused his bags to be lifted from their current resting spot, and move towards the car, the trunk of which popped open, allowing the bags to be placed in, before closing once again.

“Wonderful,” he said out loud. “Let’s roll, then." 

\---

A two hour drive was far from taxing, even for most people, but Hal especially found it enjoyable. On a purely mundane level, he enjoyed the chance to listen to music, and appreciate the scenery blurring past him as he made his way across the country, headed back home. But Hal’s enjoyment of such a drive extended beyond that. Magically speaking, Hal specialized in a type of magic described as “Task Magic” or “If/Then Magic”, and his cantrips were the most basic incarnation of that. He created spells that did things, accomplishing basic functions based on certain parameters, and his brain functioned much that way as well, excelling at multitasking, and prioritizing. So, a long drive, or other relatively monotonous activity, was effectively a chance for him to meditate, and at the present moment he had a fair bit to meditate on.

The meeting that he had ahead of him could make or break his performance in the upcoming Holy Grail War, which in turn could spell his doom or success as the Head of the Lachestes family. So, in essence, it was some of importance. In general, a great deal hinged on the upcoming war over Flamel’s Grail, and so Hal was willing to put everything on the line in order to win it, regardless of who he had to bury or bribe to do so. He was hoping that the upcoming meeting would go well enough that he could just do the second one, but if it came down to it, Hal would feel no remorse for killing someone who inconvenienced him. Was that wrong? Maybe, but it was necessary.

The meeting concerned the acquisition of a catalyst, an item associated with a potent hero of Chinese history, which would give Hal the upper hand while summoning them as a servant for the war that loomed. Originally, the Lachestes family had a fairly strong catalyst prepared, one that had been passed down through the family for several generations, in eager anticipation of this War, but complications had arisen that had prevented Hal from now using it. Unfortunately, the piece of wood that was going to be used was lost in the fire that had destroyed the former Heir of the family’s house, and taken his life. A horrible tragedy, which Hal didn't regret in the slightest.

And so now, Hal was looking to buy a replacement catalyst from someone who could best be described as a magical antiques dealer. He had the family funds to use, of course, but still, his ability to negotiate a good price for the object would reflect on him as a family head, so there was still a fair bit of pressure. Luckily, he had a chance to meet with the elders of the family before he had to get to the important meeting, and as his meditation ended, and he pulled into the driveway of the family mansion, he mentally prepared himself for dealing with the elders. Given how little they liked him, it was almost as much of a challenge as his upcoming meeting. But at least, ultimately, they were on his side, and wanted the family to flourish as much as he did.

He stepped out of the car, and walked towards the mansion, not bothering to lock the car behind him. Mortals couldn’t cross mansion grounds, and if a magic user entered the land, they’d have bigger problems than a stolen car. As the cobbled path clicked underneath his feet, Hal began to mentally weave a cantrip, a simple pattern, one that would open any door that was directly infront of him. Once he’d made the pattern in his mind, he did the predatory aspects of the casting, committing the signature of mana to memory, storing it mentally. It seemed useful, so he mentally traced it a few times over, preparing it four times in total, his maximum. The mana it would take to do this was relatively low, and the benefit it would provide and the effort it would save him more than made up for it. He didn't stop as he approached the doors of the house, but burned the first of the cantrips, causing the door to pop open without him moving a muscle.

Once more into the breach, as it were.


End file.
